


Many Happy Returns

by Cheloya



Category: Pet Shop of Horrors
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheloya/pseuds/Cheloya
Summary: Old, imported. The holidays are difficult for Dee.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Vesca doesn't believe in pronouncing dingle consonants.

Dee is usually pretty irritated when Vesca turns up on his doorstep, all long legs and hair gel and afterthought hygiene. "One would never guess you studied medicine, Mr University Student," he sniffs in that imperious way he has. "Well, come in quickly before someone sees you. I don't want people thinking I house vagrants." Today is no exception as far as the irritation goes, but the command lacks its usual sting - probably because he's still holding a wet paintbrush when he comes to the door.

  
His hair's pulled back from his face in a meticulous knot held together with four chopsticks and an unlucky paintbrush. Vesca supposes that's all right. Dee's got a lot of hair. Still makes him look kind of ridiculous, though, and a bit girly - well, _girlier_. The makeup sort of takes care of that already.  
  
"Well?" Dee prompts, gesturing more forcefully with the paint brush in his hand. He tilts his head, almost but not quite exasperated. "Vesca, obviously _you_ aren't busy today, but some of us have things to be getting on with."  
  
Vesca frowns as he allows himself to be drawn inside, more hastily than he might have moved, himself. "I thought you said you'd finished all your papers?" He raises an eyebrow as Dee fills his ancient kettle and sets it on the stove. "That was your excuse for not coming out drinking with us last week, remember?" Dee throws him a look more poisonous than the sea snake that appeared in his fish tank over Christmas, and moistens the paintbrush at the sink, squeezing the tip gently. The black ink looks strange over his pale skin.  
  
"I am not working on assignments," he says quietly. Vesca is instantly on edge. Dee's voice is rarely quiet like that - well, it's always pretty demure, unless the guy is _yelling_ at him - but it's rare for the Asian man to sound uncertain, wavering. "I am writing to my... family."  
  
"You make it sound like a major chore, Dee," Vesca says, trying for levity. "Are they that bad?"  
  
Dee smiles at him blankly. It would be horrifying, had Vesca not already seen it too many times for comfort. "My father's ideals are quite different to my own. Not bad, just..." A sigh. "Different." He pours the heated water into a tiny, delicate tea pot, and carries it carefully to the low table beside the couch. "Can I persuade you to--"  
  
"No." Vesca answers automatically. He hates sugar in his tea. One day Dee'll get that. Probably around the same time he starts to understand Dee a little bit. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
Dee hesitates. Vesca plunges on in without any further testing of the water. "Because I'll listen if you do. Might not have anything useful to say, but you know, they say it helps."  
  
"Who says?" Dee smiles that blank smile again and reclines as much as he is able in the armchair. Hovering his cup indecisively beside his lips, breath barely shifting the steam, he looks suddenly delicate, and Vesca's not at all sure he wants to hear it any more, but that's what he gets for doing a cannonball instead of a safe, respectable slide-in entry from the very edge of Lake Dee. He never could do things by halves. "I..."  
  
Vesca leans forward to snag his own tea, and sits back with trepidation and the misplaced comfort-scent of cinnamon.  
  
"They are only cards," Dee admits suddenly, softly. "For the New Year. My father does not like me to write, often. He is concerned that I will, ah, affect my... younger brother." He takes a tentative sip from the rim of his tea cup, and jumps when Vesca slams his own back down on the table. Violet eyes focus on the blond man, half concerned and half off-with-the-fairies. "Is something the matter?"  
  
Vesca knows his glare is probably hard and unforgiving, and he hopes Dee realises the anger isn't aimed at him. "I don't know how you can just say that so calmly. He's _your_ brother as much as your father's son, right?" He sits back again, without his tea, and ignores the part of his mind that's asking, slightly bewildered, _Dee has a brother?_  
  
Dee lets out a slight chuckle, at that, which Vesca feels is totally misplaced. "More than you realise," he agrees with some amusement and the reappearance of that oddly distant smile. "But he is also my father, and I must respect his wishes."  
  
"That whole filial piety thing, yeah?" Vesca grunts as he snags his tea again, and drains it in one gulp, to Dee's wrinkled nose. "No offence, Dee, but that kinda sucks." He bites his tongue - _Dee's gonna get huffy_ \- and bobs forward again like some kind of retarded chicken to view the neat characters that line the back of the cards Dee had been writing. "They look nice, though," he says before the balloon of Dee's indignation swells fully, and the Chinese man deflates suddenly with a raised eyebrow. "What do they say?"  
  
Purple irises join the eyebrows momentarily in their soaring, though this is an action made fonder by the advent of the tiny smirk on Dee's lips. Vesca nearly grins. "I suppose I should not expect you to be at all knowledgeable," he says, and gestures to the first card, decorated with winter flowers. "A formal greeting for my father. The red envelope is for Xiao Di."  
  
"Dee what now?" Vesca asks blankly. Dee very nearly winces at the butchered pronunciation, and hastens to correct it.  
  
" _Xiao Di_ , Vesca," he says, really exasperated this time. "It means 'younger brother'. You are terribly ignorant. Do you know any Chinese at all?"  
  
Vesca gives him what he hopes is a _look_. "Knee how," he says, and Dee shakes his head stiffly. Vesca interrupts before he can be the recipient of another lecture. "And at least I'm not still being ordered around by my parents in college."  
  
He regrets it almost immediately, of course, as Dee's face falls back into that mask of apathy. "It is not that simple," he laments, and Vesca makes a rude sound in response.  
  
"Pretty much everything is simple if you look at it right, Dee," he explains. "Look, you write the kid a card, and tell him happy new year from me, too, and, uh..." He rifles briefly through his pockets, pulled out a five dollar bill. "Put that in your red envelope, 'kay?"  
  
He watches Dee's expression change, and at the soft brush of his skin as he accepts Vesca's small offering, he realises he has to get out of there before he does something stupid.  
  
"I've gotta get going, Dee," he manages. "I'll see you around, yeah? Kongy fat choy, I guess."  
  
Dee does not rise, as he usually does, to usher Vesca from his apartment. He is already writing, filling in the bottom line of the new card with the crosses and circles that mark hugs and kisses.  
  
He's not there when Dee runs out of space for the markers, or when the Chinese man thrusts the card suddenly away, so that the ink will not run with tears.  
  
But he's there when Dee gets a letter back.


	2. Chapter 2

Vesca still doesn't know how he got roped into this. The aquarium was already pretty big, from memory; he's damn near certain Dee doesn't need another one. Yet here he is, lugging the damn thing down the street, because Dee can apparently spend three hundred bucks on an aquarium without batting an eye, but he can't pay for delivery, or a cab. It figures.

 

"Just another block or so, Vesca," the Asian man chirps reassuringly - as though it's gonna help the burn in Vesca's lower back and forearms - and continues his stroll unhurriedly, even pausing to peer longingly inside the door of the bakery he so loves, and to wave to the owner.

The overly talkative owner. Fuck. "Hurry up, Dee, or I'm gonna drop this damn thing...!"

A pout and a toss of the hair is his only reward, and Dee bids a fond farewell to the bakery owner before he deigns to respond to Vesca. "I wish you would not be so rude in public, Mr University Student..."

"Yeah, well, when my pain threshold's taken care of I'll start worrying about public versus private, okay, Mister-- Dee? Dee, what are you...?" He's wandering off again, that bastard, he'll kill him with his own two hands and the million pieces of glass this fish tank's gonna shatter into when it hits the concrete. "Jesus, Dee, do you have to check your mail right this goddamn second?"

Dee scowls and looks back at the blond man, grabbing his mail without paying attention. "Do be quiet, Vesca," he suggests poisonously, and locks his little letterbox again, turning to dial them into the apartment complex without glancing at the small bundle of papers in his hand. He graciously allows Vesca to precede him into the lift, which Vesca realises seconds later was merely a ploy in order to make Vesca wait another few agonising seconds while he fishes in an inner pocket for the pass he needs to get the lift working. And another few seconds to scoop it up again when he drops it in the hall - he knows this is a ploy, because Dee never drops anything, the bastard. But he bites his tongue, because he knows this game, and he knows that if he says anything else, Dee'll just find some other way to delay him putting down the goddamn fishtank. And then Vesca will have to kill him.

He nearly dies when Dee makes a small, disappointed sound upon entering the apartment. "I forgot to clear space for it," he murmurs apologetically, and Vesca is about two seconds away from just throwing the thing at him, when Dee waves him toward the lounge chair. "Set it down there while you wait, Vesca. I'll make tea."

Vesca sets it down there and drops to his knees, and then sits down on his ass on the floor, earning a disapproving sort of rattle-hiss from a dozing lizard -thing. He glares at it, catching his breath and slightly surprised at just how much effort it really took to lug the damn tank all the way from the damn petshop. He's really kinda bushed.

He grins up at Dee, still panting a little, when the Asian man sets a cup before him on the tabletop. "Thanks," he says, and reaches for it, forearms tingling slightly. "Heh. Whew. That thing's pretty heavy."

"I imagine so," Dee agrees as he begins to sift through his mail. "It is designed to hold..."

He trails off there, and Vesca watches as his mouth drifts slowly open. It's the closest he's ever gotten to a jaw-drop, and Vesca can't help but feel a litle concerned at the action and the sudden silence. "Dee?"

But Dee's not listening to him, he's holding an oddly-shaped envelope as though it will explode, or it's made of glass, and Vesca's not sure if that expression is good or bad, but there are tears in Dee's eyes and that will never seem like a good thing to him, ever, so he leans forward and grabs the guy's knee. "Hey! Dee, you all right?" Dee looks at him like he's never seen another person before and licks his lips, closes his mouth again. He blinks several times, and Vesca leans slightly closer, feeling his face crease up. He never could keep worry off his face. "Dee?"

"He wrote back," Dee blurts suddenly. "He... Xiao Di wrote back. He never..." He sounds slightly breathless, and there's a tiny flush spreading across his cheeks, real delight blooming in his eyes. He offers the letter suddenly to Vesca. "You... you open... your name..." Both slim hands dart to his mouth, smothering the half-formed thoughts that are forcing their way out. "Please excuse me, Mr University Student. I am quite overcome."

Vesca takes the envelope slowly and carefully, and stares at his name on the front - Vesca Howell, in neat, tidy lettering, at Dee's address. What the hell. He opens the letter, and it's not even a letter, just a slim little card, exactly like the one Dee had sent away a week or two earlier, only this one is in English.

Mostly in English. There's a little column, column and a half, of Chinese characters down the right-hand side. Vesca can't read those, though, so he's more concerned with deciphering the childish scrawl on the other half of the page. Still in ink, and slightly ungainly with the Western lettering, Dee's little brother had written, Dear Mr Vesca, thank you for your gift. I hope that your year is filled with happiness and good fortune. and finished with a little set of characters, and a stylised letter 'D'.

Vesca looks up, slightly bewildered. "Your brother says thanks," he says numbly. "There's something for you written down the side, too, I think." And suddenly the card is gone, snatched up by a fast-moving hand. Dee holds it up close to his face, as though he will devour the script, and to Vesca's horror, tears run suddenly from his cheeks down to drip from his chin, though he still clings to a desperate imitation of a smile.

"Dee...?" Vesca questions, and the Asian man displays the card proudly, lips trembling, beaming and weeping at the same time.

"Isn't his English going well?" He demands as tears continue to trickle from his eyes. He pays them no mind, his smile growing stronger by the second. "His hand will grow stronger as he practises, but he's doing so wonderfully already, don't you think? And his calligraphy is beautiful, flawless!"

Vesca blinks, pretty certain that no human male has ever so loudly proclaimed the greatness of a younger sibling, ever. "Well, uh, you know I don't speak the language, but it all looked, uh, really nice and neat, I guess." He wonders what, exactly, Dee expects him to say - but as Dee smiles and lowers his eyes to the card again, he realises that whatever he says doesn't really matter. He's pretty sure nothing can displace the little happy-glow Dee has going on at the moment. He's equally sure he doesn't want to be the one to disturb it. "So, uh, where did you want this fish tank?"

"May I keep this?"

The question startles him enough that he halts his attempt to drag himself into a standing position. "Huh?" He hovers there, half-up, half-down, as Dee stares at him almost hungrily, face more serious than Vesca has ever seen it.

"May I keep the card?"

Jesus, Vesca thinks, it's crazy how creepy this guy can look. And he says, "Sure thing. Your little brother, right? I only gave him five bucks, and it obviously means a lot to you. Where do you want the fish tank?" He adds, trying to move away from what is fast becoming an uncomfortable subject. But Dee doesn't seem to care about the fish tank any more.

"Oh, just leave it where it is," he says absently. "I'll make space for it later." He is distracted again by the card, setting it gently across his knees as he reaches for tea, already heavily sugared. "Thank you."

Confused and feeling a little as though he's been blown off, Vesca puts his hands in his pockets and frowns. "No problem." He doesn't know what else to say. "Well, I'll head home then." He puts his cup in the sink before he tries for the front door - he's visited often enough that he knows the house rules, and God help him if he doesn't put a dribble of clean water in the cup to ward off tanin stains - but by the time he's dried his hands again, Dee is standing at the door, hands clasped in front of him somewhat awkwardly. Vesca smiles, just as awkwardly. "I'll see you Tuesday for the Molec tute, right?"

"Of course," Dee agrees in his usual smooth tone, though it falters a little at the end. "I..." He frowns, then, and fiddles with the fabric that falls across his thighs. Somehow Vesca never quite pictured Dee having a nervous habit.

"You okay?" He asks without thinking, and Dee frowns at him doubtfully.

"I am... very grateful. I suppose... I cannot adequately express my thanks." Slowly, ever so slightly, he inclines his head toward Vesca. Is he... bowing? First time that's ever happened, Vesca thinks grumpily, and is uncertain that he's comfortable with it.

"...told you not to worry about it," he mutters, eyes on the door, and is surprised when he feels cool fingers at the edge of his jaw, forcing his eyes back toward Dee, who is suddenly a lot closer than he used to be.

"Debts like this should not be so easily forgotten, Vesca," he admonishes softly, while Vesca feels himself start to sweat at the proximity. "Do not measure my rice with your cup. Our standards are so very different." Vesca licks his lips self-consciously. Dee's eyes flicker toward the movement for a moment, and then they are focused on Vesca's own again.

"Call on me in an hour of direst need, and I will hear you," he says with perfect seriousness. "I will help you. I promise."

He says it with perfect seriousness and then he kisses Vesca gently, as though to seal the deal. The American can't quite convince himself that this is reality. Maybe they took the stairs, not the lift, and he really did drop the fishtank and fell down the stairs, to boot. It would certainly explain the otherworldly ringing in his ears, the tingle of unreality that washes across his skin as he stares down at Dee, feeling the bridge of his nose turn red, and unable to do much except think, what the fuck--

Dee's hand strokes the corner of his jaw once, twice, and lifts away.

"Remember to look at chapter eight."

This is too much. The physical exertion, dealing with Dee's letter-hysteria, some sort of mystical Chinese pact - the addition of chapter eight to the mix is too much for him to take, right now. "Hunh?"

Dee smiles. "Chapter eight, Vesca. For Molecular Biology. Don't forget to look at the exercises."

"Uh, right," Vesca says. "Molecular Biology. I, um, I won't."

"Very good."

There is an awkward sort of pause. Vesca wonders if mystical Chinese pacts are meant to leave your lips tingling like this. And your jaw. And just below your collarbone, where Dee's hair had brushed when he stood on tip-toe to--

Vesca jumps as a hand on his shoulder gently begins to steer him toward the door. Dee's smile is more like its old self, more mocking than really happy, and that's something Vesca feels he can deal with, at least.

"Do be careful on your way home, Mr University Student. I would hate to have to complete that practical on my own."

It's advice he takes to heart after a little Honda tries to take off his arm when he's crossing Fuller. Because suddenly he doesn't want Dee to have to take that prac on his own, either.


End file.
